A Simple Explanation
by Beatrice Bhandal
Summary: Fraser has wounds that refuse to heal. Is there a simple explanation?
1. Chapter 1

A fan fiction based on the television series Due South.

Chapter 1

Inspector Margaret Thatcher loved her job. And she was good at it. She enjoyed keeping busy and prided herself in her efficiency and ability to balance the demand for both quality and productivity in her work. There was no point in completing a task, she believed, if it was not done well, but on the other hand, there was not always time for perfectionism. She gracefully achieved this balance…usually. Today, she found herself overscheduled and slightly flustered. She was running late for a meeting and contrary to her usual level of preparedness had not finished reading the briefing notes and agenda. She would have to read them in the car, she decided, stashing the folder in her large shoulder bag as she hurried down the stairs and into the lobby of the Canadian Consulate.

In her distracted state she almost missed Constable Benton Fraser as he entered the lobby from outside. She paused a moment to admire his strong frame perfectly representing the ideals and stereotype of the Mountie tradition. The sight of him often had this effect on her, making her slow down a little, taking her out of the present moment to almost another time and place. It puzzled and intrigued her. Perhaps it was because he always seemed to stand out, even after years of living in the city, as though he didn't really belong in this fast-paced world. She felt that even after the intimate moments they had shared, she was no closer to understanding him. Perhaps they really were from different worlds. She realised she had missed seeing him around the office lately. Although, technically she was his superior officer and manager, they both lead largely independent roles that didn't rely on day to day contact.

At that moment, Turnbull appeared jolting her out of her reverie. "I've brought the car around to the back door Sir, when you're ready."

"Thank you, Turnbull." She realised she had better hurry. "Nice to see you in the office, Constable," she said to Fraser turning her mind back to work and making her way through the hallway toward the coat stand.

"If I may have a word, Inspector?" requested Fraser.

"Walk and talk Constable. I have a lunch meeting and the traffic's terrible this time of day." At this particular moment Thatcher cursed her busy schedule. She had neglected to check in with Constable Fraser for several weeks and would have liked to hear what he'd been up to.

"Yes Sir." Removing his hat Fraser followed her down the hall. "I have regretfully decided to withdraw my involvement in the training program for new recruits to the Chicago PD, at least in the more physical aspects," he told her.

This stopped Thatcher in her tracks. She removed the scarf she had thrown around her neck and looked back at Fraser's face in puzzlement and frustration. "I think I'll see you in my office," she stated. She was now suddenly reminded that as much as Fraser intrigued and soothed her, he could also frustrate her to the extreme with his unusual and unpredictable requests. Not so long ago he had asked to run some field skills workshops for new recruits to the Chicago PD. Initially against the idea, she had been persuaded by his arguments and now was completely on board. She had even made suggestions to her superiors to initiate similar programs in other jurisdictions. She fought to contain her sudden anger, realising that there must be a reasonable explanation and that part of her frustration stemmed from the fact she was running late. That was her own failing and she shouldn't take it out on Fraser. She turned to climb the stairs hollering over her shoulder for Turnbull to start the car.

"After you, Sir." Fraser nervously followed his commanding officer up the stairs.

"This training program," she began sitting down at her desk as Fraser sat opposite her, placing his hat on his knees, "is the perfect opportunity to encourage good relations between the CPD and the RCMP. Particularly in the more physical challenges that encourage cooperation and build relationships. Not to mention showing the Americans that we're willing to get our hands dirty!"

"Yes Sir, I realise that," interrupted Fraser, "and those are the exact arguments that I put forward when requesting to participate in the program."

"Ah, yes. So, they were," admitted Thatcher. She took a deep breath to calm her anger. "They were your arguments and you made them very well. I am now very keen for this initiative to go ahead, and you seemed so keen… why the sudden turn around?" she added squinting suspiciously at him.

Fraser looked uncomfortable and his brow took on a handsomely pained expression. "The thing is Sir, I sustained a few injuries recently which have taken a little longer to heal," he confessed awkwardly.

Meg raised her eyebrows. It was rare for Fraser to ever admit to any personal discomfort or trouble unless absolutely necessary. Her anger disappeared as she recalled his recent exploits for which she'd had to fill out multiple injury reports, "the bus incident," she noted.

Fraser pursed his lips in agreement. "And the squirrel," he added seriously.

Thatcher looked up confused. "Did you say squirrel?" Although curious, she did not have time for this story. "I do not even want to hear about the squirrel," she begged raising her hand. Her mind was already racing ahead. Perhaps she could find another officer to assist with the training program? Of course no one would be as quite as suitable as Fraser. Turnbull would certainly not do. She resolved to bring it up at the meeting.

"If you are keen on the program, I could organise a replacement," Fraser offered, mirroring Thatcher's thoughts exactly. It reassured her that sometimes they did think alike. "And obviously, I'll still be involved at the organisational and planning level," he assured.

"Very well Constable," Thatcher smiled. "I'll organise a replacement as soon as possible so you'll have time to prepare. You concentrate on the planning…and healing," she added standing up to signal the end of the discussion, then added, "You know, this might actually be good for you Constable - taking a more managerial role. You're not as young as you used to be. You'll have to learn to take a back seat to the action. You can't keep throwing yourself in front of every out of control vehicle and physically chasing down every criminal."

Fraser looked somehow relieved and defeated at the same time. But he thanked her kindly and moved toward the door just as it opened suddenly with a thud into his forehead. Thatcher looked up startled by the sound and saw Fraser wince and raise his hand to his brow as Turnbull apologised profusely and ran to get some ice. She shook her head as she left for her lunch meeting, trying to recall specifically how Fraser had been injured when he'd foolishly but heroically stopped a bus from ploughing through a busy sidewalk. She felt a pang of guilt when she couldn't remember and felt she had neglected her responsibility as manager. Of course, Fraser was competent and independent, but she should try to keep in touch better with how he was faring. She made a mental note to catch up with him properly at the very next opportunity.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Stanley Raymond Kowalski waited on the sidewalk outside his favourite little Vietnamese restaurant. He looked forward to seeing his friend after a busy couple of months for them both. Ray had taken a job as an investigative reporter for a TV network. It was an opportunity Fraser had encouraged him to take while he decided on the direction of his detective career. Since the real Ray Vecchio's return, he no longer had his position at the CPD, and he was disinclined to move to another area, so had taken leave to explore his options. He was enjoying the investigative work actually, which was similar, in a way, to police work. Perhaps he would even consider continuing in this direction. Ray buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and absently kicked an empty drink can. "Fraser would pick that up," he thought to himself, then, "I should probably pick that up." He did, tossing it into a bin outside the restaurant and smiling to himself at the influence Fraser had on him.

"Ray, you're looking well," came the familiar voice of his friend.

"Hey, long time, no see!" Ray turned and grinned at the sight of the man in red serge and firmly grasped Fraser's arm for a moment in a sort of half hug. Did he notice Fraser flinch slightly? He knew the Mountie could be awkward about physical contact, but not usually toward Ray.

"It's good to see you Ray. Shall we?" He gestured toward the restaurant. "Dief, stay." The wolf sat reluctantly at the door.

When the pair were settled at a table, the owner of the restaurant approached.

"Hello Ray!" she greeted. Ray had been a regular here for some time and always received special treatment almost as if he were an adopted child.

"I'll have the usual thanks. Hey, Annie, this is my friend Benton." The woman turned to smile at the handsome stranger.

"Xin chào," greeted Fraser. Ray had no idea he knew Vietnamese. Annie seemed very pleased and Ray watched awkwardly as Fraser made his order in Vietnamese.

Over the meal, Ray related his recent experiences as an investigative reporter, detailing some of the more interesting stories and upcoming projects. How it was refreshing to investigate stories not based on criminal activity such a recent one he had covered on new technologies to combat carbon dioxide emissions. "Some of the sciencey stuff is a bit over my head," he admitted, "but I can usually bluff my way through it. You know, it's funny," he mused, leaning back in his chair. "I get more respect at the network for being a police detective than I ever got in the PD. I think it might work in my favour if I apply for this grant to produce a documentary. I'd get more creative freedom on a project like that. I just need an interesting topic, so let me know if you come across anything."

"I will," agreed his friend, pleased that Ray seemed inspired by his work. Annie returned then to clear their plates and Ray realised he had been doing most of the talking and hadn't heard much from Fraser's end.

"So, what's up with you?" Ray leaned forward on the table. "Isn't that training thing for the new recruits coming up?"

"Yeah, it is, although, I've had to withdraw from most of the exercises I'd planned."

"Why? You love that stuff."

"Well, it's actually a peculiar thing," began Fraser not quite sure how to explain the situation and feeling uncomfortable talking about his problems. Ray waited expectantly while Fraser hesitated then abruptly decided it would be easier just to show Ray than try to explain. "Look at this," and Ray watched in suspense as Fraser methodically unbuckled, unbuttoned and removed his red tunic, and laid it across his lap. He then rolled up the left sleeve of his undershirt turning his arm to reveal some serious abrasions and cuts around his elbow and upper arm. "There's more, but I don't think it would be appropriate in this setting to… reveal everything."

Ray winced in sympathy. "Ow, how'd you do that?" It was clear now why Fraser had flinched at his hug earlier.

"Falling from a moving vehicle."

"Oh, right, the bus incident," remembered Ray. "But, that was months ago wasn't it? This looks like yesterday."

"Exactly." Fraser began to roll his sleeve down again when Ray noticed another wound on his forearm.

"Wait, what's this?" he asked, gently but firmly grasping Fraser's wrist and turning it to reveal a deep wound with unmistakable teeth impressions.

"Oh, that. There was a squirrel—" began Fraser.

"A squirrel did that? That's some squirrel!" interrupted Ray. "I mean, I have heard that the fox squirrel is vicious compared to the grey squirrel. And they do tend to populate the rougher neighbourhoods but—"

"No, you misunderstand me Ray. Diefenbaker bit my arm."

Ray looked alarmed.

"But he was only trying to warn me about the squirrel," explained Fraser. "It's a long story and it's not important, what is important is I have these wounds that refuse to heal and so… I can't demonstrate the activities I'd planned for the young officers. At least not without embarrassing myself and the RCMP and possible making my situation worse."

"What're you gonna do?"

"Inspector Thatcher's finding a replacement and I'll just coordinate."

"Well that's okay, but I really meant what're you gonna do about your arm… and your head?" Ray indicated the small cut on Fraser's brow from his run-in with the door earlier that day. "And whatever other wounds you found it inappropriate to share. I mean, the way you accumulate injuries, Fraser, this does not bode well."

Fraser sighed, "I don't know." He smoothed an eyebrow with his thumb, a little habit he had when feeling uncertain. "I guess I should go see a doctor again."

Ray nodded. "Well, let me know how things go, okay?" He was concerned for his friend who was usually in such peak condition. Of course, Fraser did sustain a fair number of injuries due to his willingness to risk his own safety for others, but he always seemed to recover quickly. It was unsettling to see him like this. Ray realised with embarrassment that he was still holding Fraser's wrist and released it, so he could redress. "I still can't believe that Dief bit you!" Ray commented to relieve the tension, trying not to stare as Fraser slipped back into his red uniform.

"It was my fault," explained Fraser as he fastened his buttons. "I wasn't listening to him and, well, he has been a little over protective lately. I'm not sure what's up with him."

"Maybe it's not him. Maybe it's what's up with you," suggested Ray.

"You're quite probably right Ray," agreed Fraser as he positioned and bucked his belt and lanyard. "Although, he seems fairly relaxed now," Fraser observed looking over Ray's shoulder. Ray turned to look too. Dief had finished the meat scraps Annie had kindly given him and was sitting sleepily outside the door.

"That's cause he's off duty," joked Ray. "Dief and I, we take shifts."

After paying for the meal Ray and Fraser stepped out into the cool air. "Where're you parked?" asked Fraser.

"Just a couple of blocks away." Ray indicated the direction with a jerk of his head.

"I'm heading that way. I'll walk you to your car."

"I've missed you Fraser," smiled Ray. "You're always such a gentleman."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ray and Fraser started out on the short route to Ray's car, which passed through several quiet streets and around a small community garden. Diefenbaker disappeared to explore the surrounding area, returning at intervals to keep pace with the men. The air had cooled significantly, and frost was beginning to form on the grass in the gardens. The cold air was refreshing, thought Ray, but also foreshadowed the approaching winter which he disliked. The first snow would not be far away.

"Oh, dear," murmured Fraser stopping unexpectedly in his tracks as they passed the garden fences. Ray, following his gaze, peered ahead into the darkness for any sign of trouble.

"Not again," Fraser murmured, removing his hat to press a hand to his forehead. Then the Mountie sank to one knee, his other hand to the ground supporting his weight, and Ray realised it was not something out there that was wrong but rather Fraser himself.

"Hey, what's up? You ok Frase?" he asked with concern. "Uh oh, it's not food poisoning is it? I knew I shouldn't have ordered those prawn rolls."

Diefenbaker reappeared then out of the shadows. He licked Fraser's face whining softly, then positioned himself a few feet away in a protective stance, ears pricked, on alert for any danger.

"It's not the food Ray." Fraser closed his eyes, then took a slow controlled breath, in and out, which Ray recognised as his way of coping with pain. "It'll pass," assured Fraser who now appeared in an almost meditative state. But Ray was not reassured.

"Since when do you get migraines? Has this happened before?"

"What's the time Ray?"

"Uh… eight forty-two. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Curious," observed Fraser calmly. "That's four days, four hours since the last time. The exact same time interval—to the minute."

"That's one hundred hours. Why does that ring a bell?" mused Ray. "Wait, so this is, what, the third of these… episodes that you've had? That's not good Fraser."

No, Fraser admitted to himself it was not good, and he felt now that these 'episodes' as Ray had referred to them were getting worse. He had until now assumed these attacks of dizziness and pain were merely tension headaches due to overwork and tiredness, and he had resolved to look after himself better. But now he considered that there might be more to it than that. He worried that if the episodes worsened he would not cope. There must be an explanation for his condition—perhaps it was linked to his slow healing. Perhaps the absurdly consistent time interval would provide a clue? Fraser's thoughts were then interrupted by another wave of pain accompanied this time, by a feeling of nausea. In his uncertainty, he felt his concentration slip and the pain overwhelm him. The world spun.

Ray had knelt beside Fraser but was unsure how to help. Now, Fraser had buried his face in the crook of his arm, his fist clenched, and he let out a muffled groan. Ray put his hand gently on Fraser's back. "Hey, just let me know anything I can do." He began to wonder if he should call someone but after a couple of long minutes, the symptoms appeared to subside, and Fraser breathed normally again.

"I'm alright now Ray," he stated, then in almost a whisper, "Ray, would you drive me home?"

"Of course," assured Ray, relieved that there was something he could do. He helped Fraser to his feet and picked up his fallen Stetson.

"You know, that's not what I call alright, Fraser. You're shakin' like a leaf," he observed, lending a shoulder for support.

"Thanks Ray." Fraser gripped Ray's shoulder to steady himself realising how thoroughly exhausted he now felt and grateful for the steady support his friend offered.

"We're gonna get to the bottom of this," reassured Ray as they made their way toward his car, although he did not feel as confident as he sounded. "C'mon, let's get you home."


	4. Chapter 4

Constable Benton Fraser awoke at the break of dawn the next morning feeling refreshed and energetic. As he dressed and prepared for another day's work, Diefenbaker followed at his heels, almost underfoot. "Why won't you leave me alone Dief?" Fraser complained. "I'm fine. I told you there is nothing to worry about." He had almost convinced himself that this was true. Although, his wounds had not healed significantly, there were no signs of infection, thanks to the traditional home-made antiseptic ointment he diligently applied daily. No doubt it would just take a little time. He strode toward the window and almost stumbled over Diefenbaker who seemed intent on obstructing his path. "What is it now Diefenbaker?" The wolf whined. "Fine," Fraser conceded, rolling his eyes, "if it will stop your whining, I'll make a doctor's appointment." He sat down on the small seat by his door and pulled out the phonebook and landline phone which Ray had convinced him to have connected at his new flat. He scrolled through the phonebook for the nearest doctor's practice and quickly arranged an appointment. "Thank you kindly," he concluded, replacing the handset. "Happy?" he asked Diefenbaker who now appeared quite disinterested. Fraser shook his head and opened his window wide enough to climb out onto the ledge for a moment. By holding on to the window frame and leaning out to arms reach he had almost a 270-degree view from the north-west right round to the south. It was this aspect that had been the deciding factor in him choosing the place. He licked his index finger and held it out to determine the wind direction. "North-westerly," he observed taking an extra moment to breathe in the fresh arctic air, before climbing back inside and closing the window half way. Winter was on its way. He retrieved his uniform overcoat from its hanger and left the apartment block.

It was still early so he planned to call in on his friend and unofficial partner Detective Raymond Vecchio at Chicago Police Department's 27th precinct office before heading to the Canadian Consulate. As he walked he noted with interest the residents and commuters in his new neighbourhood. Having moved only a few weeks before, he was not yet entirely familiar with the place but even so, he recognised a familiar face here and there. "Good morning Mr. Haddad" he tipped his hat to his green grocer. A woman's voice then drew his attention ahead. The harsh language that issued from her lips seemed at odds with her neat and proper appearance. Her golden-brown hair was pulled back in a coil at the nape of her neck and her clothes fit without a wrinkle. It was evident she had just missed a bus. Fraser ran to try and hail the bus, but it disappeared around the corner. Turning back to offer his assistance, he saw the woman jump quickly into a taxi. As it sped off, a blue folder and a few sheets of paper blew from the slamming door into the gutter. Fraser retrieved them and ran down the sidewalk in pursuit of the taxi. Nothing like a morning run in the fresh air. Despite the slow-moving traffic, it was more than several blocks before he caught up with the vehicle as it stopped near a train station. The woman emerged from the vehicle and paid the driver.

"Excuse me ma'am, I believe you dropped this."

"Oh my god, thank you!" she exclaimed upon realising what had happened. "These are my job interview notes. I would've been lost without them. Wait, did you just run all the way from the bus stop?"

Fraser nodded. "Might I offer some advice?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sure."

"The bus you missed makes several stops just around the next corner. Now, as you appear to be in excellent physical health, I believe it would not be difficult for you to run down the alley by the green grocer's and—"

"Run?" she interrupted him in amusement. "Not in these heels, honey."

Fraser looked down past her shapely legs at her high heeled shoes. "Ah, true enough," he conceded. He knew first-hand the difficulty of running in even modest heels. "My mistake, I apologise."

"I better catch my train." The woman excused herself and walked toward the platform. "But thanks again," she called with a last glance back toward him.

"Good luck with your interview!" Fraser called as she disappeared into the crowd.

By the time he arrived at the police office, Fraser felt a little light headed. Perhaps chasing down the taxi had not been the best thing this morning? He made his way through the untidy, open-plan office to Detective Vecchio's desk which he found unusually clean and clear. Vecchio was nowhere to be seen, while the rest of the office staff seemed to hurry about their regular business. Feeling slightly disoriented, he looked around for an explanation. Perhaps something had happened? He felt a sudden sense of déjà vu and a tightening in the pit of his stomach remembering the last time Vecchio had been unexpectedly absent. Huey and Dewey were arguing at the adjacent desk and noticed him. "Hey Fraser," Huey called. "You're wanted in the Lieutenant's office."

"Oh dear," thought Fraser and prepared himself for bad news.


	5. Chapter 5

Fraser was full of apprehension as he entered Welsh's office which he found in disarray—a perfect contrast to Vecchio's tidy desk, and equally unusual. There were paper case files stacked high on the desk and around the room. Fraser couldn't even see Lieutenant Welsh behind the stacks of paper. Something was obviously amiss, and Fraser was determined to get the full explanation this time. He didn't want a repeat of the confusion he had suffered when Vecchio went under cover in the mob. He had actually begun to question his sanity on that occasion when he returned to Chicago to find Ray Kowalski in Vecchio's place and every other person insisting that nothing was different. It had been a very unsettling experience.

"Excuse my impertinence, Lieutenant," Fraser began, "but might I be so upfront as to request an explanation as to the whereabouts of Detective Vecchio? It's just that the last time he disappeared there was some confusion and I would prefer—"

"Hey Benny, it's me!" The familiar face of Ray Vecchio appeared from behind the papers leaving Fraser stunned for a moment before a broad smile spread across his face.

"Ray!" he exclaimed, overwhelmed with relief and happiness at the sight of his friend. He also felt suddenly dizzy but caught himself before falling by leaned his palms on the desk.

"Whoa, Benny! You okay?" Ray looked with concern at his friend. "You look cold—is it cold out? Hey, why don't you sit down?" He tried to move a chair but succeeded only in knocking over some boxes sending more papers tumbling to the floor. "Francesca, get us some coffee in here would you?" he yelled.

"No, no. I'm fine Ray," Fraser assured him, standing tall again. "It's just, for a moment there I thought…" He paused, realising how silly his assumption would sound. "Never mind."

"You thought what?"

"It's not important Ray."

"Well, it seemed important enough a moment ago when you demanded an explanation from the Lieutenant, so just tell me already."

"Well, I saw your desk was empty," Fraser reluctantly explained, "and I thought, I don't know, maybe… you'd gone under cover again."

There it was. Did Benny intentionally guilt trip him like this? He never could tell, but it was just as likely his own guilty conscience that made him feel this way. Nothing like a good Catholic upbringing to develop a guilt complex. And he did regret the timing of his undercover job which hadn't allowed any time for explanations.

"God, Benny, about that—again, I am so sorry." Ray leaned on the desk now and hung his head.

"There's really no need to apologise Ray. You did what you had to do. I completely understand. We've been over this before."

"Yeah, well it's obviously affected you." Ray gestured in the direction of the unflinching Mountie who often appeared to be unaffected by anything, but Vecchio knew better. "I'm gonna make it up to you somehow. I am."

"I assure you, there's really no need. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Really, it's fine." He swayed a little still feeling light headed but tried hard to convey a relaxed attitude. Ray studied his friend closely.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Well, no," admitted Fraser, "to be perfectly honest—"

At that moment the lanky and slightly scruffy, spiky haired figure of Ray Kowalski strode purposefully in through the doorway stopping directly in front of the desk next to Fraser and opposite Vecchio.

"Great, you're both here. I need to talk to you," he jerked his head toward Vecchio, "and you." As he glanced at Fraser, he noticed his friend's pale, blue-tinged complexion. "Hey, Frase!" He slapped the Mountie's shoulder sharply with the back of his hand to get his attention, "Breathe!"

Fraser obediently took several deep breaths and felt instantly better. "Thanks, Ray," he said in surprise and puzzlement.

Ray Vecchio was incredulous. "What, so now you can't even perform essential bodily functions without this guy?" He was joking but also felt a pang of jealousy at the sudden intrusion of this other Ray.

"It appears not," Fraser confirmed in slight bewilderment examining his fingernails as they gradually lost their blue colour and returned to a healthy pink.

"What's goin' on Vecchio? You takin' over here or someth'n?" Ray surveyed the office. Francesca then emerged from the stacked paper files in the corner of the room.

"He's filling in for Welsh who's filling in for the captain," she explained.

"Yeah? Who's filling in for Vecchio?"

"No one," Francesca smirked. "He does so little work anyway, no-one's gonna even notice he's gone let alone miss him!" her voice rose deliberately to aggravate her brother.

"Shut it Francesca," Vecchio responded.

"It's not true Francesca," Fraser corrected her earnestly, "I noticed… and I missed him."

"Thanks Benny," Ray acknowledged. "But it's only temporary, so there's no need to fill my position. What's it to you anyway, Kowalski? Still trying to get your old job back?"

"Er, no." Ray tried to explain, "I just wanted some info on that incident you and Fraser dealt with not long ago, when that kid got trapped in the sewer. It may be related to a current situation we got."

"How do you mean Ray?" Fraser asked.

"Well I got to thinkin' and I remembered where I'd heard a reference to a one-hundred-hour time interval. Turns out it's the life cycle time of a genetically engineered microorganism. I visited the lab where it was developed and interviewed the scientists behind it. It um… chews up carbon dioxide from water to like, combat climate change or something. Anyway, there was a kid there, doin' a work placement or something. I talked to her too, though I couldn't publish anything without parental permission. Her name was Jaqueline Reynolds."

"She was the kid trapped in the drain," confirmed Vecchio.

"Yeah, I got that already from the media reports, but I need her contact details. I wanna know what she was doin' in that storm water drain."

"Come on, Kowalski, I can't just give you contact details of a minor," Vecchio argued. "You're not even an acting police officer right now. And besides I still don't understand what it is you're investigating. Is there evidence of a crime?"

"No," replied Ray sulkily.

"Do you suspect any criminal activity?"

"Um, contamination of public water?" he improvised.

"It's a sewer! It's supposed to be contaminated!" Vecchio was becoming exasperated.

"Actually, it's a stormwater drain," corrected Ray, also becoming frustrated, "and no, the situation I'm investigating is not criminal activity but it is in the interest of um… of…"

"Of the public good?" volunteered Fraser.

"Yeah," agreed Ray. "It's definitely in the interest of the public good. That is, if you consider Fraser to be a public asset. Look, I can do it myself. It'd just be quicker with your help."

Vecchio was now quite close to losing his patience. He was beginning to appreciate the difficulty of Welsh's job. He took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could manage, "You still haven't given me a reason. What's the current situation and what's the connection to the kid? I don't follow."

"I think I do," said Fraser. "It seems Ray is suggesting that somehow this microorganism from the lab he visited, was present in that stormwater drain and that I have somehow become infected by it. It's a tenuous and unproven link but the one-hundred-hour cycle may explain some of the symptoms I've experienced recently, and the fact Jaqueline was present at both locations seems too big a coincidence to ignore."

"Thank you, Fraser, for an explanation that makes at least some kind of sense," said Vecchio, still struggling to rein in his temper. "Although to be honest, it just raises a lot more questions that I really don't have time for, so I'm going to tell you that Jaqueline Reynolds attends St. Fortunata's Catholic girl's school. You should be able to find her there, and you can tell Sister Anne I sent you."

"Thank you kindly, Ray, and now I'm afraid I really must be heading to the Consulate," Fraser apologised. He turned to Kowalski, "I'll see you later Ray."

"Hey, wait up! I'll give you a lift," Ray made to follow Fraser out the door but was stopped by Vecchio who jumped to block his path, grabbing the front of Ray's shirt. Ray prepared himself for a confrontation. Vecchio seemed particularly hostile toward him today. "What's your problem Vecchio?"

"Sorry." Vecchio let go of Ray's shirt and dropped his voice. "Tell me Kowalski, is he ok?" The concern was evident in his voice as he inclined his head in the direction of Fraser's departure and Ray realised that Vecchio was just as concerned about Fraser as he was.

"He's um, I dunno, not really," he replied seriously. "But I'm on it."

"Good, 'cause I'm kinda tied up here with these clowns." Vecchio gestured through the window of the office toward Huey, Duey and the other detectives. "It is not easy being manager," he grumbled.

"Ah, hah!" exclaimed Francesca from the corner, "I found that case file you were after!"

Vecchio rolled his eyes, "Finally! Now get this mess cleaned up." He turned back to Ray, a hand on his shoulder "just… look after him, will you?"

Ray nodded, "Sure." Vecchio released him and he hurried to catch up with Fraser.


	6. Chapter 6

Ray Kowalski drove in the direction of the Consulate and quite easily caught sight of Fraser. He slowed the car to match the Mountie's stride, and offered him a lift provided they first make a quick stop at the Saint Fortunata School. Fraser agreed and took the passenger seat next to Ray. As he drove, Ray noticed Fraser appeared rather pale though no longer blue-tinged as he had been earlier.

"What was that about back there in the Lieutenant's office?"

"Huh?"

"You know, your um… Can a person really forget to breathe?"

Fraser shook his head. "No. It's a spontaneous reflex Ray. Although interestingly, the breathing reflex is not triggered by a drop in blood oxygen levels as you might think, but rather by increased carbon dioxide. It's the reason free divers can blackout when using the dangerous method of hyperventilation to extend their dive time."

"Huh?" Ray didn't see the relevance of this.

"You see," continued Fraser, "hyperventilation decreases carbon dioxide levels in the blood thus suppressing the urge to inhale. It's extremely dangerous because divers can unwittingly remain submerged until they blackout from lack of oxygen."

"Great, so how does that relate to your problem?"

"I have no idea. I'm not a doctor Ray."

"Speaking of which, are you gonna see one?"

"Four thirty this afternoon," Fraser stated as they arrived outside the school.

Fraser led the way to the main office where they found Sister Anne who offered to fetch Jaqueline Reynolds from her class. She unlocked the door to an empty meeting room. "I'll send her in here for you. Just close the door when you've finished. I'm afraid I have to set up the hall for our debating team so I won't see you out, but I hope you get the information you need. And don't keep her out of class too long," she added strictly.

"We won't," promised Fraser. "Thank you kindly, Sister."

Presently a tall girl with short dark hair and a pristine uniform presented herself outside the door of the meeting room where Ray and Fraser met her before entering. "Jaqueline Reynolds?" Ray asked her for confirmation.

The girl nodded suspiciously. It was unusual to be called out of class like this. "I prefer Jaq," she added.

"Okay, yeah I think I remember that. I'm Ray Kowalski. I met you before at the research lab." The girl seemed to recognise him. "I'm also a friend of Constable Fraser," Ray explained.

It was only now that Jaq noticed Fraser standing behind Ray. She stared blankly at him before gradually smiling. "Hey, it is you," she said in recognition. "Look, I wanted to thank you for rescuing me. I meant to say so when we got out but with the media and everything, my dad just wanted to get me out of there."

"Well, it's understandable that he'd want to protect you," Fraser said.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "That's not the reason." She studied Fraser again in amusement. "You really look different—in the daylight and… in that uniform."

Fraser smiled. "Likewise," he noted with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

Jaq glanced down at her own uniform. The pleated skirt, tights, and blazer were a far cry from her preferred jeans, trainers and black t-shirt, and certainly cleaner than she had been when Fraser had found her in the underground stormwater tunnel. "Fair enough," she admitted.

Ray fidgeted awkwardly in the doorway. "Yeah, uh, so ya both scrub up well. Why don't we sit down and get this over with?"

Fraser ushered them into the room where they sat around a small table. Ray began. "Look, ah, sorry to interrupt your class and all, but I just got a few questions."

"For your story? So, you do want to cover the corruption and collusion in large corporations to control and limit research in clean technology?" This had been the topic Jaq had passionately described to Ray at their last meeting. To his ears they were merely the ramblings of a teenaged do-gooder out to save the world and just looking for any inspirational issue or cause.

"No, uh this is something else," Ray told her, and the girl's face fell in disappointment. "I want to know exactly what you were doing snooping around down in that underground drain." Ray's tone shifted to one more appropriate to interrogating suspects and Jaq did not respond well.

"It's just like I already told the cops," she mumbled defensively, kicking at the table leg. "I was exploring." She sat silently for a moment then added, "It was dumb, I know. I didn't mean to get lost and cause such a drama."

"So you weren't looking for anything?" Ray questioned.

Jaq shrugged and stared down at the table top.

"Hey, Look at me!" Ray demanded, standing up and leaning on the table toward her. "You're not in any trouble, so just tell me what you were doing there!"

"I don't have to tell you anything! And why are you yelling?"

"She has a point Ray," Fraser interjected.

"No, she doesn't. She has no point. This is pointless!" Ray sat back in his chair defeated.

Fraser tried a different approach, "Jaq, since we last saw each other, have you experienced any unusual symptoms? For instance, severe migraines, any cuts or scratches that don't heal?"

"No," she answered. But her interest was obviously roused.

"Good." Fraser was relieved for her sake.

"Wait, why? Have you?"

Fraser cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes, as a matter of fact. And Ray here, believes that my condition may be caused by a microorganism developed in the lab you worked at. Of course, it's a completely unfounded theory as there's absolutely no evidence that the microorganism was present in the stormwater, besides which—"

"I might have some evidence," Jaq interrupted. This immediately drew Fraser and Ray's undivided attention. She bit her bottom lip nervously before continuing. "I took samples of the water that day. That's what I was doing there." She looked pointedly at Ray. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't find what I was looking for. And if I'm wrong, I don't want my dad on my case for no reason. But maybe I was right after all. I was just looking for the wrong thing!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"What were you looking for?" Ray asked.

"Traces of biodiesel. It's another technology my Dad's company invested in, along with the carbon dioxide absorbing bacteria," Jaq explained. "But then he pulled his funding from the independent researchers, and set up his own lab and I reckon he's stolen their tech. I was trying to prove it by testing the run off from the lab."

"Jaq, what exactly does your father's company do?" Fraser enquired.

"Oil, logging, forestry, research..." She shrugged. "Whatever turns a profit." Her tone clearly showed her disgust.

"And the name?"

"Jack and Jaqueline Enterprises. My dad named it when I was born."

"That's cute," Ray commented.

Jaq became suddenly angry at his comment, "Yeah?" she almost yelled between clenched teeth standing up from her chair. "Well, I'd rather not be named after a company that's killing the planet! That I have no control over and no respect for… and…" Her clenched fists shook as she ran out of words.

"Perhaps things can change?" suggested Fraser calmly. "After all, if I'm not mistaken, the company was named after _you_ and not the other way around."

Jaq looked at Fraser trying to figure out what he meant. "I don't see the difference that would make. But come on, let me get you those samples. They're in the science lab."


	7. Chapter 7

Later, back at the Consulate Fraser was called into Thatcher's office.

"There are two items I wish to discuss with you," began Thatcher pacing her office as Fraser stood in his customary parade rest stance. "The first is on the subject of your replacement for the CPD training exercise." She picked up a document from her desk and put on her glasses. "I have here a list of officers available to work with you. Top of my list is Constable Maggie Mackenzie," she read.

Fraser's face lit up at the name, "Indeed?"

Thatcher frowned. "I'll admit my impression of her during her last visit to Chicago was unfavourable, but I'm now aware of the extenuating circumstances on that occasion so I'm willing to overlook it. By all accounts she's proven herself to be a valuable officer since then—and her field skills are exceptional. So, with your approval, I'm inclined to select her." Thatcher removed her glasses then to look up at Fraser.

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"There's also a note on file that you two share a personal connection. What would that be exactly?" Generally, Thatcher tried not to pry into her subordinates' personal lives but in this case, it was work-related, and she felt it was important to be aware of the situation. She hoped Fraser would understand this and interpret her interest as purely professional.

"Ah, yes," Fraser confirmed enthusiastically, showing no hint of the embarrassment Thatcher had expected. "We are related Sir," he explained, "Siblings—well, half siblings to be exact."

"Really?" Thatcher responded in surprise. She had noted a closeness between her Constable and Mackenzie during their last meeting but had assumed it was something else. Her brow furrowed in confusion, "I was of the understanding you had no immediate family Constable."

"Yes Sir. As was I. Our…kinship is a somewhat recent revelation."

"I see," said Thatcher composing herself. Inexplicably, she felt much more comfortable with the idea of Mackenzie as Fraser's half-sister rather than as his ex-girlfriend or lover as she had until now assumed was the case. Although, considering the rapport she had with her own half-siblings, it would not necessarily mean they would work well together. She voiced her concern, "And will this connection affect your working relationship?"

"Not adversely, no," assured Fraser.

"Well then, if you're happy with the selection?"

"I'm delighted."

"Then it's settled. I'll make the formal arrangements and Constable Mackenzie should arrive by Monday." Thatcher walked back behind her desk and set the paperwork down. "I think that's about it then. Dismissed."

Fraser remained standing.

"Was there something else Constable?"

"No Sir. Except you did say there were _two_ items you wished to discuss."

"I did?" She had not really forgotten. She had wanted to ask Fraser how he was—how he _really_ was, to check that he was alright, but then when it came to it she simply didn't know how to broach the subject. She had observed him however—listened as he ascended the staircase, watched as he entered the room, and had noticed a stiffness in his movements which were usually fluid with a controlled grace. As she studied him now she saw a weariness in his paler-than-usual complexion and a sort of concentrated effort, as if it were difficult just to maintain his usual composure. But he was here, and he seemed well enough so what was there really to say? She realised he was waiting for her response, his clear grey-blue eyes expectant but patient. "Well, it can't have been important," she said awkwardly.

Fraser glanced down at his boots and cleared his throat before speaking, "Sir, I want to thank you for accommodating my er…shortcomings. You've made these arrangements and taken me off sentry duty—I appreciate it."

This took Thatcher off guard. She was only doing her job after all—and not doing it very well she felt. She struggled as a manager sometimes to set the right balance between expecting high standards of her staff and being sympathetic to their individual needs.

"You're welcome Fraser," she said frowning. "But it is my job—to look after my staff."

"All the same, I appreciate it."

His sincerity disarmed her. "Understood," she responded softly, adding, "Just be sure to rest and recuperate," which came out more like an order than she meant. "And if you need to take any leave…"

"That shouldn't be necessary," Fraser said quickly. He certainly hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Checking his wristwatch, he realised he should be leaving soon for his doctor's appointment. "If there's nothing else?"

"Of course, you're dismissed." Thatcher watched him go.

Fraser did not enjoy doctor's visits but he knew there was something wrong and hoped his doctor would find a simple explanation for his symptoms and a simple solution.


	8. Chapter 8

The following day Kowalski called Fraser with an update on his investigations. He had sent Jaq Reynolds' water samples to the research centre where she had worked for analysis. The results had come back positive—meaning that they did indeed contain the micro-organism developed at the lab. The head researcher believed this could only have resulted from deliberate theft of intellectual property, so had requested a police investigation. Detective Vecchio had officially put Kowalski on the case employing him on a temporary basis. Fraser had also done some background research on Jaq's father's company which operated on both sides of the border justifying his official involvement in the case. The company was also listed for violations of the Canadian Environmental Protection Act. Kowalski had arranged a visit to the research facility that tested the water and Fraser had agreed to accompany him.

"Good afternoon Detective," Fraser greeted, making deliberate reference to Ray's status as he opened the passenger door of the car for Diefenbaker to jump through to the back seat.

Ray flashed a wide grin, obviously pleased with his reinstatement at the 27th precinct, albeit temporary. "Let's go partner." It was good to be officially working together again.

As they drove Ray asked Fraser about the outcome of his doctor's visit.

"Inconclusive," sighed Fraser. "I'm waiting on some test results, but with such general symptoms there's a lot to rule out. And if it really is this lab-generated micro-organism—well, there's bound to be no precedent."

"Well, let's see what we can find out from the researchers."

Ray was right—there was really no point worrying about what may or may not be. The only course of action was to follow the evidence, gather the facts, and uncover the truth.

"Here we are," stated Ray, stopping in the visitor parking area.

They left Diefenbaker in the car and made their way inside. The head researcher, Dr. Amanda Montour was a petite woman with an engaging presence. Her straight brown hair swung in a loose braid at her back as she ushered them into her office after signing them in at the front desk.

"Honestly, I was shocked to find our own bacterial strain in the samples you provided Detective Kowalski. I really can't see how it could have been accidentally released," Dr. Montour began.

"And it's not possible that someone else has developed the same thing?" Ray asked.

"Replicated my entire life's work of research?" she questioned incredulously, her dark eyes flashing. "Possible of course, but hardly realistic. The strain I used as a template for modification was from my personal collection—not one commonly used by researchers. That makes it near impossible. No," she concluded. "The micro-organism originated here. We have to find out how it was released."

"Okay. Why don't you run us through the basic controls in place?"

"Of course," she complied. "We run a BSL-2 lab—that's biosecurity level 2, used for micro-organisms that are potentially dangerous. Our methods minimise the risk of contamination and all waste is sterilised before disposal. Access is restricted to trained staff at all times."

"Trained staff—can you supply a list of names?"

"I can," she agreed. "And I should be able narrow the timeframe we're looking at based on identification of the exact strain. You see, we've modified and improved the micro-organism over the course of the research."

"That'd be helpful," nodded Ray. "What about motive? Why would anyone want to steal this micro-organism?"

"I'm not sure. It's still in the research phase but the potential for commercial application is promising and the investment required to get to this result is already in the millions."

"So, it's valuable—but for what purpose?"

"Environmental control, industrial processes, medical purposes… It's hard to say. There are such broad possibilities. You see, the real breakthrough was in biomolecular signalling." Dr. Montour became more animated and intense when describing her work. "This allowed us to control the uptake of carbon dioxide so that it occurs only above a given concentration. It also allowed us to synchronise the micro-organism's lifecycle so that it replicates after a given interval of time."

"One hundred hours?" asked Ray.

"In one of our earlier strains—yes. But the interval can be tailored to suit the application."

"And, this micro-organism—is it dangerous?" asked Ray.

"It's potentially disruptive in the environment because it changes carbon dioxide levels," she explained.

"Yeah, but what about people? Can it harm people?"

Dr. Montour frowned, "I shouldn't think so. The template was an environmental bacterial strain, not a human pathogen. We've no record of infections."

"Hmm. This is a long-shot," began Ray, "but I think maybe we have a case."

"What makes you think that?" Dr. Montour looked sceptical.

"Well er, Constable Fraser was in the drains where those water samples came from and he's had some…what would you call 'em Fraser?"

"Some odd symptoms," Fraser continued, "recurring precisely every one hundred hours with increasing intensity."

"What kind of symptoms?" asked Dr. Montour showing some interest.

"Headache, dizziness, nausea." Fraser thought for a moment. "Not unlike altitude sickness—severe and sudden altitude sickness."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. A general inability to heal—I have cuts and grazes that haven't healed in months."

"Interesting," she admitted. "If infection were possible it might explain your symptoms. The infection would deplete the body's protein reserves inhibiting repair of tissues, and alkalosis which also occurs at high altitude explains the headaches." She shook her head. "But really, I don't see how that would be possible. How were you even exposed?" She looked intently at Fraser with undisguised scientific interest.

"He probably licked something of the ground," offered Ray.

"That shouldn't be enough'" she mused not taking her eyes of Fraser. "The micro-organism is not particularly resilient. Stomach acid alone would kill it."

Fraser was beginning to feel like a scientific specimen under her scrutiny. But the truth was he had done more than lick the ground. He swallowed awkwardly before explaining, "I also inhaled quite a volume of water when a sinkhole opened up and I…well, I fell into it."

"You didn't tell me that part," accused Ray.

"I'm sorry Ray—I didn't think it was relevant."

"That might do it," confirmed Dr. Montour. She released Fraser from her intense gaze and thought for a moment before straightened in her chair a little too enthusiastically. "If this is true, It's a remarkable discovery! It's impossible to get ethics approval to _deliberately_ infect someone but this accidental exposure might provide valuable insight into—" she stopped abruptly and clasped her hand together. "I'm sorry, I'm being insensitive. I've let my scientific interest run away with me—I tend to do that," she admitted. "It's the reason I switched from practicing medicine to research." She sighed. "My bedside manner is terrible." She smiled apologetically at Ray and Fraser in turn standing up. "The real priority," she told her self out loud, "should be your health. With your consent Constable, I may be able to confirm our theory right away. I'll just need a blood sample."

After obtaining Fraser's consent, she gathered the equipment to take a sample in the office before performing a few tests in the lab. Her bedside manner—or in this case chairside manner—was not terrible, Fraser discovered, although it her supressed excitement was nonetheless visible on confirming the presence of the micro-organism in question. Back in her office, she printed out a summary of the results and handed it to Fraser.

"This being such unique case Constable, there's no chance your regular doctor will be able to make a correct diagnosis. If you provide this summary, it'll give some explanation—but I suggest you also ask your doctor to contact me directly—and soon—to consult on possible treatments." It was unclear whether her sense of urgency was based on concern for him or on her own scientific curiosity. Perhaps it was both.

"I'll do that," agreed Fraser folding the printout carefully. "Thank you kindly."

Ray and Fraser left the research facility with a list of staff members who'd had access to the restricted lab as well as an approximate timeframe based on the specific bacterial strain. One name was of particular interest—Marcus Bradburn had been employed during the period of time that Jack and Jaqueline Enterprises funded the research but was let go when the funding was pulled. His address was nearby, so they decided to call in for a chat.


	9. Chapter 9

Constable Fraser and Detective Kowalski arrived at the address listed for the former employee at the research facility—Marcus Bradburn. It was on the first floor of a small apartment block accessed via open concrete stairwells. The door was answered by a young boy about ten years old who said he'd fetch his dad. They could hear the domestic sounds of cooking and children playing from inside the small apartment. The young man who met them at the door appeared wary at the sight of the two strangers. He leaned on the door frame and studied them from under tousled sandy coloured hair

"Good afternoon," Fraser greeted, "I'm Constable Benton Fraser and this is Detective Raymond Kowalski." Ray showed his badge. "We're investigating a matter related to research at the Institute for Biological Research Solutions. We understand that you worked there? That is if you are Marcus Bradburn?"

"Yeah," confirmed the man, "That's me."

Fraser nodded. "We'd just like to ask a few questions. It won't take much of your time."

Marcus ran his hand through his hair nervously, "Yeah, sure. Just um… give me a minute." Then he shut the door and they heard the deadlock bolt slide across.

"He's not coming back," Ray said under his breath to Fraser. "and he knows something."

"Maybe. But without a search warrant there's not much more we can do," Fraser said. He turned and walked back down to the concrete landing where some over-filled garbage cans awaited pick up. Diefenbaker pushed back a lid to lick the remnants from an old pizza box. Fraser clicked his tongue with disapproval then noticing something, he turned his head to read the print on a discarded envelope. He bent to retrieve it. "Hmm," he mused looking back toward the closed door.

"What is it?" Ray questioned moving toward him.

"Jack and Jaqueline Enterprises," Fraser murmured handing the envelope to Ray.

"Huh."

Fraser straightened suddenly. "Do you smell smoke?"

They heard yelling from within the apartment and smoke began to stream from under the door. Then the door opened, and they heard a woman yell "What are you doing Marcus? You'll burn the place down!"

Ray and Fraser raced inside to find flames blazing from the stovetop. Fraser quickly turned off the gas and glanced around for a fire extinguisher but finding nothing he hurriedly removed his coat to smother the fire. It died down quickly. He opened a window to expel the smoke and the smell of singed wool. When the air cleared, they saw a woman and two children at the door. Marcus was in the living room near the telephone.

"Oh, thank you sir!" the woman said to Fraser. "I don't know what my husband was thinking—talking on the phone while he's got the stove going!" She threw her hands up and bustled into the kitchen, picking up Fraser's coat and shaking it out. "I think it's ruined," she said sadly handing it to Fraser. The stovetop was covered in ash.

"This was no cooking fire," observed Ray fingering some fragments of paper amongst the ash.

They all turned toward Marcus for an explanation. He backed toward the living room window looking trapped. He smiled sheepishly then slid the window open, swung his legs out and was gone.

Fraser ran back out the door and peered around the stairwell to see Marcus jump to the ground. Then without hesitation he vaulted the railing and gave chase with Diefenbaker already racing ahead.

"Oh great!" Ray ran down the stairs to circle around the other side of the building. He ran along the adjacent street planning to block Marcus' escape. He had covered several blocks before realising he must have overtaken them. Fraser and Dief must have caught up with Marcus already. He doubled back expecting to find a the triumphant pair holding Marcus for him at the next corner. But as he rounded the corner and looked up an alleyway, he was alarmed instead to see Fraser on the ground with Marcus crouching over him. He drew his gun as he approached.

"Hands up!" he yelled, pointing the gun at Marcus and demanding, "What'd you do?"

"Nothing dude! He just collapsed," Marcus said, his hands in the air.

Ray looked down at his partner lying motionless on the ground, his face pale and his lips distinctly blue. "Oh crap," he swore, kneeling and replacing his weapon in its holster. He slapped Fraser's cheeks, "Fraser! Wake up buddy, come on!"

There was no response.

"Oh crap," repeated Ray, supressing the sense of panic rising inside as he checked Fraser's vital signs: pulse—yes, breathing—he held his cheek close to Fraser's face but could neither hear nor feel any air movement. "Oh, crap," he muttered again then gently tilted Fraser's head back and opened his jaw. Pinching his nostrils shut and sealing his own lips over Fraser's he delivered a couple of strong breaths. He waited anxiously for a response, then tried again.

This time Fraser stirred and inhaled independently. He opened his eyes.

"Oh, thank God," muttered Ray with relief sinking his forehead into his palm.

Fraser furrowed his brow a little and looked from side to side. Grey clouds swirled ominously above, and he felt the gravel and broken pavement through his tunic beneath him. "Why am I on the ground?"

"You fell," explained Ray. "Looks like you um…forgot to breathe again."

"Really? Oh." Fraser looked puzzled. Why was Ray leaning so close? Then, realisation spread across his face. He licked his lower lip. "Wait a minute, did you just...?"

"Uh huh. Just returning the favour," Ray confirmed, trying to make light of it despite the pounding of his own heart.

"Ah," responded Fraser, more than a little embarrassed. "Thanks," he said awkwardly.

"You good?" Ray asked offering his hand.

"Yeah," he said, and Ray pulled him to his feet.

"That was weird," Marcus commented. It seemed he had given up his escape. Diefenbaker certainly wasn't preventing it—he seemed more concerned with Fraser being down.

"He has a condition," Ray said by way of explanation. "We don't fully understand it."

"On the contrary Ray," Fraser began, "I think Dr. Montour gave us the explanation. It appears that when my blood carbon dioxide rises to a certain level during physical exertion, the bacteria in my system are triggered to remove it—consequently preventing the breathing reflex. It's perfectly logical," he concluded with satisfaction. "To avoid this happening again all I need to do is consciously remember to breathe whenever I exert myself."

"Or there's the other option, Fraser," said Ray with a deadpan stare.

"Which is?"

"Just don't exert yourself."

"Oh right. That probably is the safer option," admitted Fraser replacing his hat.

"Yes. No more running," said Ray firmly. "Either of you," he added addressing Marcus too as he cuffed the man's hands behind his back.

"Marcus Bradurn, you are under arrest for theft of intellectual property and evidence tampering. We're _walking_ back to my car now, and at the police station, you're going tell us everything you know about Dr. Montour's research and Jack and Jaqueline Enterprises."

Ray had had enough excitement for one afternoon. He felt quite shaken by what had just happened—more affected it seemed than Fraser himself. As he drove, he worried about how he would keep his partner in check, and he determined not to let Fraser out of his sight for a moment. There was no way the Mountie could remain inactive in the event of some unexpected crisis—however insignificant or trivial. He had his work cut out for him, that was for sure.


	10. Chapter 10

In interview room two back at the police station, Marcus admitted to Detective Kowalski that he had appropriated bacterial cultures from Dr. Montour's lab. He had acted under instruction from none other than Mr Jack Reynolds of Jack and Jaqueline Enterprises. Marcus had been promised a job with the company at a new research lab if he followed through. This was where he now worked for Mr Reynolds.

As they left the meeting room with Marcus, Kowalski murmured to Fraser, "This is a start, but we only got the little guy. The real bad guy here is his boss—this Jack Reynolds."

"Indeed," agreed Fraser.

Suddenly they heard yelling from the Lieutenant's office. A tall man in a business suit burst out of the door.

"Just drop the case Detective, or mark my word, you'll regret it!" the man yelled casually. His words were threatening, but he seemed in good spirits as though he enjoyed such confrontations.

"I'll do as I see fit Mr Reynolds," Vecchio retorted from the doorway with equal fervour.

Jack Reynolds recognised Fraser and Marcus as he swaggered down the hall towards them.

"Don't worry Marcus," he said clamping his employee roughly on the shoulder, "they've got nothing." Then focusing aggressively on Fraser, "Constable," he spat, "you should learn where you're not welcome. While I appreciated you helping my daughter, this is a business matter and you have no jurisdiction."

"That's not entirely true," Fraser stated without flinching. "Your operations extend across the border to Canadian soil."

"And we operate with full endorsement of the Canadian government and business interests."

"And with full compliance to Canadian environmental law?" challenged Fraser.

Jack Reynolds laughed smugly at this. "We both know, environmental law has no teeth." He grinned menacingly. Then raising his arm to show a firearm at his belt, he placed his hand on the wall next to Fraser's head and leaned in close. "I'm warning you for your own sake, stay out of this."

"Are you threatening my officers?" Vecchio questioned as he made his way over after hearing the altercation.

Jack Reynolds smirked "I don't think the Mountie's one of yours."

"Yeah, well looks can be deceiving." Vecchio was serious now. "Get out of here Jack. We're done."

"Nice guy," joked Kowalski as Jack Reynolds swaggered out.

"You okay?" Vecchio asked Fraser with concern.

"He didn't touch me," Fraser assured with a nod.

"I gotta see both of you in my office," Vecchio sighed.

They left Marcus at Kowalski's desk with Dief and followed Vecchio into the Lieutenant's office. Vecchio shut the door and made his way to the desk. He slapped an official looking document on the desk in front of them sat down with a sigh and leaned back in his chair.

Fraser picked up the document. It was a court ruling.

Vecchio explained, "Looks like the ownership of the technology you're investigating is under dispute. The current ruling—as of just this afternoon— is that it belongs to Mr Reynolds' company since he funded the research."

"But the funding was pulled. And if he owned it then why did he steal it?" Kowalski argued.

"I don't know. But it's a moot point because you can't steal something that belongs to you. I'm calling the investigation off."

"But we just got proof that he stole the cultures!" protested Kowalski.

"Yeah, well it's not theft anymore if it belongs to you," Vecchio argued.

"That's ridiculous, the logic's all backward," Kowalski complained

"It can't be denied that the technology was obtained by nefarious means." Fraser reiterated.

Vecchio shrugged. "Fine. Record your statements, file your evidence—it could be useful to the courts—but that's all I can do." He threw his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, the investigation's off."

Kowalski swore and grumbled as they headed back to his desk to tell Marcus the good news.

Detectives Huey and Dewey entered the Lieutenant's office then with a request for new surveillance equipment but Vecchio only half listened to their reasoning. He was distracted by what he could see from between the slatted blinds of the office window.

"Are they always like that?" he asked.

Huey followed his gaze to where Kowalski and Fraser were engaged in an animated argument. "Sometimes," he shrugged.

"That's nothing," Dewey assured, "You should have seen them last year after they had to escaped gunfire by jumping 100 foot into the lake. Fists flew."

Ray looked sceptically to Huey for confirmation.

"Oh, yeah, they had a real falling out," remembered Huey. "But," he shrugged, "they kissed and made up."

"I don't think they actually kissed," smirked Dewey, "…did they?"

This all sounded a little farfetched to Vecchio who struggled to remember Fraser even raising his voice in argument. "Well, I guess if it's normal," he said dubiously and turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

Kowalski ranted angrily about the case and about Vecchio's unfair treatment of him. Fraser's logical reasoning only seemed to aggravate him further. "Do not defend him Fraser! Come back to the 27th he said, I'll get you a sweet gig. Yeah right, what a dud case!" He kicked the filing cabinet next to his desk, then started punching it, cursing profusely.

"Ray, Ray, stop!" Fraser demanded, worried he would injure himself, then grabbing him by the shoulders, he almost yelled, "Ray!" Having finally gained his partner's attention, he dropped his voice back to a normal level. "Ray, this isn't like you. Would you just tell me what's actually worrying you?"

Kowalski shook off Fraser's grasp in frustration looking him directly in the eye. "You, Fraser!" he seethed.

Fraser was puzzled. He couldn't think of anything he'd done to annoy his partner.

"You could've died today in that alley way."

Fraser shook his head in embarrassment. "No," he began, "I don't think—"

"If I wasn't there…" cut in Kowalski.

"Diefenbaker was there."

"A wolf cannot give mouth to mouth Fraser!" Kowalski yelled raising his voice again. He did not appreciate Fraser's attempt to skirt around the issue.

"Alright, alright. Point taken." Fraser admitted hurriedly, aware that they were beginning to cause a scene.

Kowalski calmed down but still glared questioningly at Fraser.

"So," began Fraser tentatively, "You're angry because… I'm not dead?"

"No you moron, I'm angry because you freaked me out! I was scared half to death Fraser—I still am. I can't do this. I can't look after you like this."

"Who said you have to look after me?" Fraser was both touched and annoyed that Kowalski felt such responsibility for his safety. "Look, I'm sorry Ray. I made a mistake, but I won't let it happen again."

Kowalski gave in. "Okay, apology accepted. But how can you even know that? Aren't you worried at all? I gotta worry for both of us?"

"Worrying never solved anything Ray. The only solution is a course of action."

"Action, I like action."

Fraser retrieved his hat from Ray's desk and removed the summary Dr Montour had given him. "I do have this to deliver, and at the consulate I can access databases to check environmental compliance records." He watched Ray pull himself together, shrug into his jacket, wincing as he rubbed his knuckles. "Is your hand okay?"

"Yeah. Let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

Back at the consulate, after hours, Fraser and Kowalski went through environmental compliance records hoping to find evidence on which to continue their investigation. Inspector Thatcher had indicated that their success would be highly regarded since Canada's Department of the Environment was keen to enforce some new laws and set a precedent to deter further infringements. However, she did not seem optimistic, warning that corporate crime was notoriously difficult to prosecute.

"You find anything?" Kowalski asked.

"A few inconsistencies, but nothing substantial," Fraser replied as he scanned a record. "You?"

"Nothing. Vecchio was right—this is a dead end. We're wasting our time."

"Perhaps," Fraser responded looking up at his weary partner. "Why don't you call it a day Ray? I've just got a few more records to look over and I want to read into some of the finer points of the regulations."

"Sure," Kowalski agreed standing up and stretching his shoulders. "Knock yourself out. But hey, don't stay too late—it's not worth it." He pulled on his jacket and walked dejectedly towards the door.

"Ray, you know the investigation wasn't a failure," Fraser called after him attempting to boost his spirits. "You made the connection between Dr Montour's research and my condition. Without her advice, my doctor wouldn't be so confident of finding a treatment. If it wasn't for your instincts…"

Kowalski turned slowly. "Are you trying to thank me Fraser?"

"Okay," Fraser responded.

Kowalski ran his hand through his hair and nodded. "You're welcome. Hey, I'm gonna call you at home later to check in okay? And I've warned you, so don't get all antsy about it," he added.

Fraser nodded reluctantly.

"Your shift, Dief," Kowalski told the wolf who obediently left his spot by the heater to station himself at Fraser's side. Satisfied, Kowalski turned and left them alone in the eerie quiet of the consulate.

Fraser stretched noticing now the dull ache in his limbs the fatigue beginning to cloud his thoughts but, resolved to complete his research, he turned back to the reports.

When he first heard knocking on the consulate doors, he thought perhaps it was just his head beginning to pound but since Diefenbaker seemed to notice it too, he rose stiffly to answer the door.

"Jaq!" he exclaimed with surprise on seeing the girl standing before him. Her hair and school uniform were wet from the rain that was now falling. It had also caused her dark makeup to smudge. She carried a duffel bag and a saxophone case over one shoulder and clutched a thick document folder to her chest.

"Come in. You must be freezing," Fraser said holding the door open.

He hung her coat, made hot chocolate and settled her in a chair, chiding Diefenbaker for his shameless begging for her marshmallows. Jaq laughed which made her appear very childlike but her smile quickly disappeared when Fraser asked what had brought her there. She sat her mug on the corner of the desk and looked down at the document folder she still held.

"I wanted to give you something," she said but only clutched the folder tighter.

Fraser studied her warmly. "What is it?" he asked kindly.

She bit her lip. "Evidence against my Dad. I collected it when I interned at his company last summer."

"I see."

She looked across at him with a pained expression on her face. "He's going to hate me," she said sadly, "God, I'm a terrible daughter! But I can't just do _nothing_ you know? Not when…It's wrong—what they're doing! I should have done something earlier, but I didn't _know_ what to do..." She sobbed wiping her eyes on her sleeve, "and now it's worse," she continued, looking across at him. She had already noticed the still prominent cut at his brow and his bandaged forearm visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves, not to mention his listless demeanour so different from the energetic physicality she remembered. "Now you're sick and it's all my fault," she sobbed, as her face crumpled.

"It's not your fault," Fraser assured, handing her his handkerchief. "And I'm alright—I'll be fine. In fact, it's thanks to you that Detective Kowalski made the connection. He remembered you from the research lab—your passion and determination."

"He did?" She wiped her eyes and nose and tried to compose herself.

Fraser studied her as she petted Dief. "You're caring and intelligent Jaq," he told her, "The world needs more people like you. But it's not always easy to find your path."

"So what should I do?" she asked hopefully.

Fraser shook his head. "It's not my place to tell you."

"Great help you are!" she said bitterly. Then more seriously, "I just wish my dad was on my side you know? Doesn't he care about the future? About me?"

"Perhaps he just sees things differently."

"Well he's wrong! How do I make him see that?"

Fraser felt for her. He could relate all too well, to her feelings of impatience with the injustices of the world and the frustration of getting people to do the right thing. He had often felt that way himself.

"I can't tell you what to do Jaq, but perhaps I can offer some advice?" At her nod he continued seriously. "I've learned from experience that we can't force our ideas or standards on others. But we can lead by example—by taking action _ourselves_ in accordance with our values. Then, if we're patient and understanding, people do come around. And then even if they don't you can rest assured that you've done what you can to make a difference."

Jaq nodded slowly as he spoke, her thoughts and feelings becoming clearer. "You make it sound so simple," she said.

"In theory, I suppose it is," he said with a wry smile. "But in practice... Well, I don't expect you to decide right away. Why don't you—"

"No," she interrupted. "I don't need more time." She placed the folder resolutely on the desk and looked Fraser firmly in the eyes. "I know what I'm doing. I'm sure about this."

Fraser looked at the folder and licked his lower lip. "You do understand that as an officer of the law, I will be obligated to take seriously any evidence of criminal or unlawful activity?"

"I'm counting on it," she said, fearlessly her tears forgotten now that she'd made her decision.

Fraser nodded silently and placed the folder with the case file open on his desk.

"Well, I should be going. It's late."

"That it is," agreed Fraser checking his wristwatch, "Will your parents will be worried?"

"Nah," she assured. "I'm always late on Thursdays with band practice. I usually catch a cab."

"Ah, I'll call you a cab then."

"Thanks." She looked at him strangely as he made the call. "Do you live here or something?" she asked as he put down the receiver.

"No," he said shaking his head self-consciously. "Well, I did. But now I don't. I'm just…working late."

"Right," she responded gathering her things. "Well, thanks for everything. Please take care."

Fraser nodded then waited with her and saw her to the cab. Though he worried about how the outcome of the investigations would affect her, he felt she had grown up appreciably in the short space of time that evening and he couldn't help but feel enormously proud of her.

The following day Kowalski and Fraser went through the evidence Jaq had collected.

Kowalski whistled in appreciation as he flicked through the file. "You were not kidding Fraser! We have a budding detective here, or a lawyer. She's done half my job for me!"

"It is impressive isn't it?" Fraser agreed. Jaq had organised her evidence under coloured tabs into categories according to possible infringements—environmental violations, bribery, fraud, insider trading, the list went on.

"What's wrong?" Kowalski asked noticing Fraser's expression. "This is good right?"

"Yeah," Fraser assured, "For our investigation it is. I only worry for Jaq. It can't be easy finding your own father guilty of such things."

Kowalski mused over this as he packed away the files. She was a tough kid but Fraser was right it wouldn't be easy.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you Ray," Fraser said more cheerfully, "It's been finalised, and Maggie will be here next week to deliver the field skills exercises in my place."

"Maggie?" Kowalski smiled, "as in Maggie Mackenzie, your sister?"

"Mm, hm. She arrives tomorrow morning. I invited her to stay with me and she agreed it would be preferable to a hotel."

"Really? Huh," Kowalski responded. He wondered if the hotel in question were really that bad or if there was some weird Canadian hospitality thing he was unaware of. "Hey Fraser, are you gonna be okay though? I mean by my calculations, Saturday night will be one hundred hours since Tuesday night when you had that last episode."

"Technically Zero-zero-forty-two Sunday morning, but yes Ray, I know. And while it won't be pleasant, it will pass and then I'll be…I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Hey, I have an idea," volunteered Kowalski. "I'll come round, cook dinner while you two go over your training schedule etcetera, then I'll stay until after I know you've got though it and then I'll get out of your hair."

"That's really not necessary Ray," Fraser resisted though he could see Kowalski was determined.

"Yeah, but I insist. Besides, I owe Maggie dinner, so if you like I have an ulterior motive."

Fraser considered Kowalski's offer. He hated to be the cause of any hassle, but no doubt it would be a pleasant evening and it really would be comforting to have Ray there should things turn out worse than he expected. "Well, if you insist," he conceded.

"Greatness," grinned Kowalski.


End file.
